


and thereby hangs a tale

by Magali_Dragon



Series: all the world's a stage [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hollywood, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Humor, It was fun to write, No Plot/Plotless, Targlings (ASoIaF), Viserys POV, Viserys Targaryen Needs a Hug, Viserys is a fun uncle, Viserys is very stressed, adventures in babysitting, all the world's a stage universe, well I think its funny, when Jon and Dany are away the kids go crazy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:47:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22165876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magali_Dragon/pseuds/Magali_Dragon
Summary: Jon and Dany go on a work trip, leaving Viserys to watch the kids.  Chaos on set ensues when the kids decide to take over.all the world's a stagecompanion piece.
Relationships: Daenerys Targaryen & Viserys Targaryen, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Series: all the world's a stage [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1594456
Comments: 27
Kudos: 243





	and thereby hangs a tale

**Author's Note:**

> I mean, what can I say? I touch my toe back into this universe and suddenly it's like I have an entire series of fics ready to go. It was also snowing like a mothereffer today and I had nothing to do but write. So here is another installment in the _all the world's a stage_ universe.
> 
> Title comes from _as you like it_ as does the other two titles of the fics and the chapter titles in the original one. 
> 
> Enjoy!

A shrink he'd gone to once told him that he thought he had nine lives.

Or was at least in some sort of semi-delusional state regarding his ability to escape from any situation unharmed. _"Possibly stemming from childhood mental trauma coupled with a narcissistic personally disorder, tell me, did your father ignore you growing up?"_ , the shrink had wondered.

He had literally walked right out of the office, even if the shrink was hot and had a rather loose way of prescribing medication. Viserys Targaryen did _not_ need to speak about whatever the fuck his father did—or didn't—do to him as a child just to get a new prescription for Xanex. He'd find it somewhere else. From _another_ hot shrink who bought into his moaning and moping about not being able to sleep without having to find out about what happened to him as a child.

He didn't literally believe he had nine lives or could get out of anything unscathed. All he knew was that he was Viserys Fucking Targaryen, he was a godsdamn legend, hot as fuck, richer than the gods, and held more power in his pinkie finger than even some leaders of foreign governments. He was the blood of the _fucking_ dragon. His ancestors rode dragons, ruled over a swath of a continent, and left behind a legacy that was still spoken about in hushed tones in the halls of the castles they built in Westeros.

All this being what it was, Viserys Targaryen would _never_ be beaten down by a little girl.

Or her baby brothers.

He stared at the child who was peering up at him, innocent as a doe, Targaryen purple eyes—in this case so violet they might as well have been amethysts—unblinking. He felt a muscle twitch in the corner of his eye. _I need a drink._ Except there was no alcohol to be found in the house because the urchins' father was all kinds of fucked up in that regard. He also knew that if he even dared to think about rummaging in his car for a little bit of coke or popping some benzies, his sister would never speak to him again.

_And honestly would that be the worst thing?_

No, the worst thing would be if he could not see the parasites again. He would never acknowledge it, not even under paid of death. He did have a reputation to uphold. No one in the world had to know how deep his heartbeat for the parasites that were currently tearing apart their home. They were the worst sort of beings in the world. They were needy, clingy, loud, cried all the time, screamed all the time, laughed all the time, did everything to excess, sapped all your energy and vitality and money without giving a damn thing back, didn't give two shits about anyone but themselves, and in general were demon spawn who destroyed, brought hellfire and damnation on all who crossed their paths, and while doing so just smiled as though nothing was amiss.

They were the greatest things in the entire _fucking_ world.

He wondered how this happened. He was _Uncle Vis_ not _Nanny Fucking Vis_. Yet that morning while he had been in his study, going through his list of actors that he refused to ever work with again and contemplating how to get Cersei Lannister back for the slam piece she'd done on him in the latest trade magazine—he was thinking of letting it slip that she'd recently undergone a suck and tuck that had left her with such a bad reaction she was _away on holiday_ getting her lips fixed—when his baby sister walked in and announced that she and her wolf were going to be going on a _quick break_ back to Westeros, to Dorne, ostensibly to do some research for an upcoming film they were optioning, but he knew it was so they could just have a little fuck-cation and charge it to the production company.

"Why do I care?" he'd asked. He'd been thinking she had to get laid, she was so _annoying_ when she was all pent up. Plus her acting suffered. Viserys hated her wolf-husband, but at least he was a steady presence that could keep her focused.

"Because Jon's sister and brother-in-law have to cancel on watching them, so they're staying here with you."

He'd stared at her for a moment, thinking she was kidding. He _never_ got them alone, not after the Golden Globes debacle when he'd given up on changing the disgusting nappies and let the twins roam naked like the feral monsters they were and they'd ended up peeing on his 14th century Pentoshi rug, which her wolf refused to pay for, despite the fact that he _encouraged_ them to destroy his property.

The townhouse was still equally his and Dany's and her wing of the house had bedrooms for her children, which he did not bother to investigate when she was up in Scotland about 99% of the time. The only time they came down to London with the kids were when they both had to be in meetings or filming. It was nice that her wolf was an unemployed lech sometimes because that meant they rarely needed a babysitter.

So he'd grumbled an agreement, promising that he would maintain whatever schedule they had for the pissing and shitting monsters that still were trying to potty-train. Also, _no_ , he wouldn't help his niece with pulling her teeth out. They'd only taken out two and they were really loose anyway. She hadn't cried and had even thought the blood was pretty cool, which was why the _tooth fairy_ had left her with fifty pounds per tooth.

Viserys was wondering why he'd agreed to it now.

His niece was holding up a costume—Prince Kit of Catesby—from Princess Periwinkle. "Where did you get that?" he demanded.

"Mummy's dress-up trunk."

He made a face. "Disgusting, your parents are sick fiends." The _trunk_ in question was where he'd snooped once and discovered Dany and the Wolf's little role-playing outfits. Princess Periwinkle did have a few different costumes in there. He stuck his tongue out, gagging. "Put it back."

"No, I wanna' play."

"We're not playing Princess Periwinkle."

"Yes we _are_ because I wanna' be an actress."

His eyebrow arched slightly, along with the corner of his lip. "Oh?"

Lyella nodded, her lower lip stuck out, pouting. "Mummy says no."

"Your mummy wanted to be an actress when she was your age and Uncle Rhaegar said okay." He had no idea if that was true or not, but Dany got to be in Rhaegar's movies as extras all the time and he had to sit around and pretend like he gave two shits that she was in movies and he wasn't. It worked out for the best, he started shadowing around his older brother and found that there was more authority and power on the other side of the camera and in the offices than there was in front of it.

She pointed to a framed magazine cover that had been blown up and placed on the wall of his study, with him and Dany posing together in black suits, red dripping down the black walls of an office, old-fashioned camera equipment and filming signs set around them, with the red headline proclaiming **HOUSE OF THE DRAGON: Targaryens Take on Hollywood**. "See? You act."

"That's modeling, it's different," he sniffed. He _loved_ photoshoots, although Dany was not a fan. They did a few from time to time, reminding the world that they were the ones in power when it came to the movies that everyone paid $20 to go see before they downloaded it to their phones. Dany refused to have her children in photoshoots, but she did sometimes show off the house for a design or architecture magazine or do some sort of avant garde Vogue spread where they draped her in fancy couture, outrageous shoes and hairstyles, and made tons of dragon references.

Dany and he were _hot_ and the camera loved them both. They never needed to do touchups, he preened, taking quiet note of his reflection in the mirror beside the frame, reaching in and smoothing a finger over a faint line near his temple. He scowled. "Uncle Viserys needs another Botox round," he mumbled.

"Botox is poison, Mummy says."

"Your Mummy could use some Botox."

The fact that Lyella said nothing to that told him she must have agreed. He was quite busy and could not possibly be bothered with playing dress-up. He looked at his iPad, which was beaming the drop camera from the nursery on the cribs where the two feral wolf cubs were up and awake, screaming for him. He sighed. “We are not dressing up, but I have a different idea.”

Dany had not bothered to discover what his plans were for the weekend when she’d dumped her spawn on him to take care of and he had been hoping maybe her publicist or someone else in her circle would stop at the townhouse thinking she was there and he could escape, but it did not seem like anything was on his side. He walked away from Lyella, striding across the large bridge that crossed between the foyer and the main receiving area to Dany’s _wing._ The doors were thrown open, when he normally kept them shut and Dany even sometimes kept them locked so he couldn’t go into her side of the house when she was in Scotland. Which was all the time.

He had zero interest in snooping through her things—he’d already gone through them. He went into the nursery which used to be her primary study, scowling at the puke green walls with woodland creatures painted on them. If it was his way, her whole wing of soft muted colors would be dark and stormy, like his side of the house. He glared at the one twin—Rhae—only smiling when the little boy stuck his tongue out at him. “They stink,” Lyella commented.

“They are foul.” He picked up the other one, Robby, holding him straight out while Lyella got her brother. He wrinkled his nose. “Why can’t you guys learn to shit in the toilet like normal kids?”

“Because they’re lazy,” Lyella said.

“No I not!” Robby shouted.

Rhae wiggled from his sister’s arms and took off down the hallway, his training pants falling down his butt. Viserys hated this, he’d watch Lyella all they wanted, but the twins made his life very difficult. “Get back here!” he called, dropping Robby onto the floor. He turned back around, snapping his fingers and pointed to her room, Lyella rolling her eyes. “Take off that ridiculous costume, you don’t know where it’s been. Get your shoes on, we’re going somewhere.”

“Where?”

“Studio, Uncle Vis has an interview.”

“Cool, we have to take them potty though. Mummy and Daddy say so, so they can learn.”

He gagged; children were the absolute worst. He looked down at Robby, who was peering up, thankfully with the Targaryen eyes. His were deep indigo and his brother’s were only a shade lighter. The both had the wolf’s curly dark hair. All the kids did, but he was somewhat delighted to see that Rhae had streaks of silver beginning to show. Either he was going prematurely gray at the age of two or he was starting to show his dragon side. He reached into his pocket and removed a tenner. He turned it over, frowning. “How did this get in here?”

“I gave it to you when I lost that bet.”

“Oh yes.” The bet that he could get her father to say a bad word within ten minutes. Stupid bet, Viserys could get anyone cursing at him in five minutes. He unfolded it and handed the note to Robby, who took it carefully. He delighted when the toddler held it up, as if inspecting its validity. “Good boy, always check to make sure it’s real, you never know who is trying to scam you.” _Especially Uncle Vis._

“You can’t bribe him, he’s two!”

“I can bribe anyone.” He picked up the boy, carting him into the bathroom. Lyella followed, intrigued. “And I am _not_ changing diapers or whatever the fu….fudge, whatever the fudge, your parents want.”

“You were gonna’ say a bad word.”

“No I wasn’t!” Robby giggled and bent over, playing with his bare toes. Viserys scowled, glancing at Lyella, who shrugged. They both jumped at a crash and then Rhae flying down the hallway, naked as the day he was born, screaming while Ghost chased after. “I forgot your beast was here too.”

Lyella shrugged. “I’ll get him.”

“Bring him in here, we’re going to train these foul things. I’ve got an interview and you all are not stopping me from getting my press!” he shouted.

Robby giggled again. “Hi Vizzy,” he said.

He rolled his eyes at the nickname he’d somehow gotten from the toddlers. “First of all, it is Viserys. Viserys Targaryen, Third of my Name, King of Hollywood, Oscar Winner, Creator of Daenerys Stormborn, and somehow uncle to you.” He squinted, hand going to his hip and pointed to the toilet. “Now. You are going to learn to use this thing before we leave the house.” He reached into his pocket, this time unearthing a fifty. He smiled, handing it over. “There’s more where that came from.”

Robby shoved the bill into his pants, before taking off out of the bathroom, squealing.

Viserys closed his eyes. “I’m going to kill my sister.”

~/~/~/~

It took an eternity to get out of the house, but thankfully Lyella knew what was what and helped him with the twins and all their shit. He had no idea kids needed so much _junk._ He was pleased that both twins had used the toilet instead of their pants and he was hopeful that his bribery of both—he was out a couple hundred each—was successful. Lyella also said that candy worked for them, so he’d found some candy in Dany’s office and gave it to them.

That was a bit of a mistake.

They were currently hitting each other with plastic swords, laughing instead of crying, thank the gods. He tried to get Doreah to watch them, but she had laughed, given him the middle finger, and taken the rest of the day off. He would fire her later. Come to think of it, he’d fired her about eighty times and she still showed up. Maybe he was paying her too much.

He had to take the back streets and the _trucker_ entrance to the studio lot because Gods forbid anyone see Viserys Targaryen driving a commoner vehicle. It was the wolf’s Range Rover because it already had all the various accoutrements that the kids needed. Weird restraints and seats and buckles and snaps. He also did not understand why the beast had to come, but it was in the back, hanging its giant white head over to drool on Lyella’s shoulder.

Unfortunately he had had to park in his normal parking space, but he could just pretend it was someone else using it. He kicked all the kids into the office that Three Dragons had on the lot, built into a large series of trailers on the current series of stages they were using to film one of the movies they’d optioned from a couple of books about the conquest of Dorne. They would be filming in Spain soon enough for the rest, but the interior shots were being done then.

He caught Margaery Tyrell out of the corner of his eye, scowling when she approached, an amused smile on her porcelain, angelic face. It was such a lie, Margaery was one of the biggest cunts he’d had the misfortune of working with. He absolutely _loved_ her. She was so unashamed of how bitchy she could be and girl knew how to use her wiles. Viserys appreciated that. “Well hello Uncle Vis,” she chirped, smiling down at the children. “I see you are on babysitting duty today.”

“I have an interview and their parents are off fucking their way through Dorne.”

“Aw, that’s sweet they trusted you.” She frowned. “Do they know you have the children?”

“Yes!”

Lyella smirked. “He sucks so bad.” She offered her hand. “Lyella Snow, actress.”

“Lovely to see you again Lyella Snow. Actress, you say? Perhaps I should cast you in my next film.”

The little wolf’s eyes lit up, her smile pulling over her series of missing teeth, which served to make her more charming. Viserys was slightly terrified. “Perhaps.” She smirked again. “Viserys is my agent.”

“Oh? New role, Vis?”

“I am _not_ your agent. I am a _producer._ ”

“You’re Mummy’s agent.”

“I am your Mummy’s _manager_. There is a different. And only your Mummy.” HE could not believe he kept saying the world _mummy._. He scowled at Margaery, who was holding back her laughter. He shifted one of the twins in his arms, he thought it was Rhae. The other was making too much noise to be him, holding onto his hand and trying to run off. Children needed leashes, he idly thought. “Can I help you Margaery?”

“I’ll catch up with you later, you seem to have your hands full.”

He made a face, carting them all off to his office, dumping the bags that the kids came with. Lyella fussed about with her backpack, removing a set of sunglasses and a large hat. He frowned. “What are you wearing?”

“My costume. Lyella Snow, Girl Detective.”

He frowned briefly; Margaery was filming scenes that day for a wedding feast. His eyes brightened and he ran out of the trailer. “Hey! Marg! Get over here, I need you!”

The Thorny Rose turned, chuckling. “Oh Viserys, you should know I am not interested in you like that.” She cocked her head, smirking. “Not really interested in your…gender.”

“Oh I know that, you think I was born yesterday?” He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. His silver ponytail was coming out of its elastic band, which he blamed the kids on. He adjusted it, speaking while he did so. “That wedding scene you’re doing, you need a kid?”

Margaery’s eyes jumped. “Oh! Yes, it’s just for a couple hours.”

“Snow will do it.”

“Excellent. Send her over in like an hour. Stage 4A.”

He smirked, satisfied he got one kid out of his hair while he had his interview. He returned to the trailer, where Lyella was smiling and making faces in a mirror. He clapped his hands. “Hey. Snap to, you’ve got your first gig. Didn’t even have to audition, you know how rare that is in this world?”

Her face practically exploded, her smile radiant. In that moment Viserys smiled, rather soft. _She looks like Dany._ Until that mulish look crossed her face, a sneer that was only her wolf blood showing. _Then she does that_ , he thought, scowling. She squinted at him. “What is my role?”

“You’re a wedding guest, fuck if I know.”

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” the silent one began to chant, while his chatty twin laughed.

Viserys shot a quick look to the twins, irritated that they’d found their way into the script books that were stacked in the corner of his desk. He rushed over to them, hauling them off the chair and desk. “Knock it off, go play with your crayons or something.”

“They can’t have crayons anymore, they eat them.”

“Seven hells.” He looked at both twins, who were on the floor, staring up at him, grinning. He shook his head. “You both are monsters.”

The silent one laughed, clapping his hands. His eyes widened. “Potty.”

“He has to go to the potty,” Lyella translated, still staring at her expression in the mirror. She smiled. “I have to practice. I cannot take them.”

He set his jaw, glancing at the clock on the wall. _Dany I swear to the gods you better return knocked up because you’re never having children again if I have my say_ , he vowed.

Robby jumped to his feet, taking off for the ensuite bathroom. “Potty!”

“Now he has to go too.”

“Yeah I _got_ it Parasite.”

“Just sayin’.”

~/~/~/~

He was fairly certain the twins were asleep.

Viserys wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t going to chance it, so he threw a blanket over them, hiding them from the view of the reporter. He only knew that it was one of Baelish’s—ugh—there to speak to him about being the _go to_ producer in Hollywood, as Three Dragons and its subsidiary company DragonWolf Productions were now responsible for four of the top ten grossing movies that decade. He was certain that _The Long Night_ would continue to rake in the records, as it was still doing incredibly well now that it had been picked up by some pay-networks for re-airing.

He had also just inked a deal with Netflix to produce a movie from one of the Wolf’s scripts. He could not _stand_ his brother-in-law and truly did not understand what Dany saw in the surly, sullen, brooding…whatever Jon Snow happened to be. He was a good writer though.

Viserys turned around in his chair, picking up his Oscar reverently. He rubbed the statue with the cloth he kept in his desk drawer. Dany kept her awards in the _fucking bathroom_ , including her Oscar, but no way for him. The Oscar traveled with him. He took it to the office during filming and when they weren’t filming, it was in his bedroom. Mostly because he liked to show it off to whomever he brought home.

He scowled at the piles of children crap in the corner of the office. He’d be sleeping alone the next few nights, which pissed him off.

Once Dany got back from her fuck-cation he was going on one of his own.

He picked up his phone, casually checking his text messages, scowling when he saw that Arianne hadn’t responded to his last message. _Five days ago._ His on/off relationship with her was currently in a state of cold and he wasn’t sure why. He tossed the phone aside, looking up when he heard the door to the office open.

_Godsdamnit, Doreah wasn’t there._

He hated having to answer his own door, but perhaps it would give him a more _approachable_ quality. Dany once told him he was as approachable as an STD, whatever that was supposed to mean. He stood, smoothing his cashmere sweater over his slim frame, which tended towards bony if he wasn’t careful, and approached the door, a placid smile on his face as he pulled it open, revealing…

“What the _fuck_?”

Sansa Stark smirked at him, shifting her satchel on her shoulder. “Viserys Targaryen.” She lifted her auburn brows. “I’m your two o’clock.” She lifted up her phone and a notebook. “For your interview.”

Viserys ground his teeth.

And heard a loud clang from the office behind him.

He closed his eyes.

“Vizzy!”

_They were awake._

Sansa peered around him into the office, the arched brows now slamming together in confusion. “Do you have a child in there?” She stepped around him, walking in and her mouth falling slightly. “Oh…the twins.”

Gods only knew what relationship the wolf had with his sister at that point, but Viserys had _not_ forgiven the Queen in the North for what she’d done to his sister. Dany had been in so much pain those few months he thought he would kill anyone and everyone who had anything to do with it. Including the Wolf, even if it meant Dany would hate him forever. He thankfully hadn’t had to do that, but he’d made damn sure that Sansa Stark’s career at 3N was over. And any Northern Independence movement too.

He wasn’t just the King of Hollywood. He was a fucking dragon. He had his fire everywhere. Even in Westerosi politics.

“Yes, the twins.” He sniffed, his heart twisting with his gut. He picked a speck of lint of his sleeve, before inspecting his newest watch, a lovely vintage Vacheron Constantin he’d picked up in Switzerland. He hated that had had to do this. “I am afraid I will need to cancel this interview.”

She frowned briefly. “I came all this way.”

“Yes, but you see I make a point not to interview with women who try to destroy my sister.” His eyes flashed. “Or my brother-in-law.” _Fucking Wolf._

Somewhere the beast had been lurking, the white creature with its red eyes emerging from the office. His lip curled over his fangs at Sansa, but he did not make a sound, nor did he do anything to suggest he was seriously displeased with her. Viserys watched him carefully; he may have hinted that Dany skin the thing for a new rug in replacement of his old one, but the wolf was highly protective of the parasites and he would be the one to determine whether Sansa stayed or went.

The wolf swished his tail and turned, retreating into the office. Sansa exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized she had been holding, as if she knew she was under a test with the wolf. She nodded to him. “Shall we?”

Viserys scowled, but…he followed her into the office. “I’m not offering you any refreshments, you will not take photos unless of course they’re just of me, and per the arrangement I get first look at the piece before you publish.” He smirked, taking a seat in his chair behind the large desk. “So I can have my lawyers decide to sue you for libel.”

“Impressive, you know the difference between slander and libel.”

“Dear little girl, I know the difference of a lot of things, it is why I am where I am and you are where you are.” Viserys folded his hands on the desk, an eyebrow lifting. “Now? Shall we begin?”

Sansa nodded, stealing a glance towards the couch, where the twins were awake, but still in a soft sleepy state, their curls mussed and their purple eyes blinking slowly. They had only knocked over a lamp, so Viserys was not concerned. _Yet._ She withdrew her pen and flicked open her notebook. “Alright. I’d like to start with a discussion about your latest acquisition, the rights to the _Jade Compendium_ from the Citadel in Westeros. How do you plan on marketing a history book like that to the audiences of today?”

He smiled. “Easily. It’s why I’m Viserys Targaryen.” He began to explain his plan, barely noting that there were text messages pinging up on his phone screen. He casually turned it over without looking.

_They’d keep._

~/~/~/~

The text messages had not kept.

They hadn’t kept because midway through his one-hour interview with Sansa Stark, the phone on his desk had begun ringing incessantly, to the point where the twins were trying to answer it. “Perhaps you should get that?” Sansa had suggested dryly.

He’d answered, intent on burning to the seven hells whatever PA thought their life was worth interrupting him during an interview for, when Margaery had started screaming. “Why the _fuck_ have you been ignoring me?! We’ve got a situation here, your _niece_ is overrunning my set!”

“She’s just a kid, how hard can it be? She’s supposed to just be an extra!”

“Well she decided she doesn’t want to be an extra anymore!”

“Stay here,” he’d ordered Sansa, glancing at the twins, who were now wide awake and curious at the new woman in the office. She was trying not to show her excitement that she was around her nephews and he wondered how much trouble he’d be in with the Wolf. _Oh fuck it all._

He raced from the office, but did not truly _run_ because he was wearing a new pair of YSL boots and if he got mud or rain on them, he’d just _die._ He ended up snagging a passing PA with a golf cart, dragging them with him to Stage 4A. He got out and hurried into the warehouse where Margaery had multiple sets set up for her movie, and walked to the wedding feast one, frowning when he saw what had happened.

Lyella was standing on one of the tables, refusing to get down, her arms crossed, demanding she speak with her _manager_ because she thought her character needed more lines. She pointed to him. “See! He’s here!”

“What are you _doing_?” he hissed, grabbing her under her arms and sweeping her off the table. He knelt so that he was eye level with her, demanding an explanation.

She smiled sweetly. “I did not want to just _stand_ there. So I interrupted.”

“And won’t stop causing a scene,” Margaery said. She shook her head, chuckling. “Lyella, sweetie, now is not the time. You’re holding up a lot of very busy people and costing the production a lot of money because you want to be the center of attention.”

“Well I’m paying for it, so fuck them,” Viserys said. He smiled at his niece. “Parasite.”

“Uncle Vis.”

“Do me a favor, huh? Do the scene, get your paycheck, and I’ll pay for you to be in another movie.”

Lyella squinted. “Oh?”

 _Shit. She’s good._ He nodded, keeping his fake smile on his face. “Yes. In fact, I’ll pay you twice what I pay all the other kid actors and let you be in your father’s new movie? You can be the daughter.” _They’re going to kill me._

“How much?”

Margaery glanced down at him, smiling. “Yes Vis, how much?”

He swished his lips around, thinking for a second and then whispered into Lyella’s ear. She whooped, clapping her hands. “Alright! I’m in.”

“You can’t tell your mother or father.”

“Funny, you’ll need their approval for all the release forms and child employment paperwork, Vis,” Margaery hissed, still smiling. She lifted her brows. “And I’m going to need that too for this production.”

“Oh shut it, you’ll get it.” He’d just back date them. It was a simple scene. He stepped backwards, gesturing. “Go on, set it again. I’ll be here.”

Lyella beamed, prancing over to her mark. He had to give the kid credit, she was quite photogenic. _The Targaryen genes. Too bad she doesn’t have silver hair._ He watched Margaery re-set and then call for action. It was a quick interlude, the main characters having an intense discussion about family something or other while the extras and others spun around behind them dancing.

He watched as Lyella, whose role was to be dancing with another child, spun around and let go, before casually sauntering across the backstage and then dancing by herself. He smiled. She was a complete natural. He noted that Margaery did not call to cut and reset, but smiled herself, before she called the end scene. He walked over to her. “Good?”

“Good.”

Lyella ran over to him. “Did you see me!”

“I did Parasite. You’re a natural.”

A PA walked over, trembling like a leaf. “Um…sir…Mr. Targaryen?”

He glared sideways. “What?”

“Phone call from the main offices um…there’s an issue in your trailer.”

Lyella stared at him, eyes widening. “You left the twins!?”

_Fuck, I left the twins._

~/~/~/~

“What happened?!”

“He said he had to go to the potty so I let him,” Sansa said, stepping backwards as water rushed all from the bathroom and over his _gorgeous_ and now totally _ruined_ Myrish woven rugs and stained the Ibben end tables. He gaped, horrified at the sight.

The twins were somehow naked again— _where did this exhibitionist streak come from_ —running through the trailer throwing script pages up in the air. He had no idea what to do first.

He was actually pleased that his bribery and ordering had successfully worked and the twins were actually asking to go into the bathroom. Except he was wondering what to do to his beautiful rugs and furniture, salvage the interview, explain to Dany that he now had her daughter acting, and convince the Wolf that his estranged sister wasn’t up to no good in the presence of his kids.

Sansa picked up her notebook, scribbling something. “So you’re acting now?” she asked Lyella.

Lyella scowled at her. “Aunt Sansa,” she greeted. She cocked her head. “Daddy says we don’t talk to you.”

“Um, well…he’s…he’s sort of been talking to me.”

“Hmm.”

There was more to unpack with that later. Viserys had to get this place cleaned up and he was _not_ a man who worked with his hands. He grabbed the phone, calling someone, anyone, who picked up in facilities, and cursing the fact that he had not really fired Doreah. He slammed the phone down and spun around to the twins, shaking his head at them. “Hey! Beasties! Knock it off!”

They stopped immediately, giggling. Robby picked up his phone, which the toddler had gotten hold of, handing it to him. “Pretty,” he said.

 _Pretty?_ Viserys glanced at the phone and stared at the image of Arianne. There were dozens of texts from her, wondering what he was doing, since it seemed the twins had gotten his phone open and were basically toddler texting her, nothing but gibberish and numbers as they’d screwed with his keyboard. She’d sent him a picture of her, saying she had been out of cell phone range in the Dornish Mountains, on a hiking trip, and what did he say to meeting for drinks in London that weekend?

He shot a look at Robby and Rhae. “Good job,” he muttered, pocketing the phone. He picked up one and then the other, holding them on his hips, sighing. “But what the fu…fudge did you do to my trailer?”

Lyella walked out of the bathroom. “Um, Uncle Vis?”

“What?”

“I know what happened.”

“What?” He walked into the bathroom and almost dropped the twins.

Sansa Stark looked over his shoulder, chuckling. “Mind if I take a photo?”

Viserys was so stunned, he couldn’t even answer.

His Oscar was currently sitting in the toilet, water rushing around it.

Robby giggled and stuck his fingers into his mouth while Rhae tugged on his ear. “Vizzy,” he cooed. “Love.”

“They’re saying they love you,” Lyella said.

Viserys just remained rooted in place, unable to speak.

~/~/~/~

“I hope they weren’t too much trouble.”

Viserys stared at his sister, his normally shiny silver hair limp around his face, his eyes dull. It always ended like this. He removed the icepack from his forehead, sitting up and wincing at the pain in his shoulder. He really was not old, but hauling the potato sack of kids up all the time all weekend long was killing him. He spoke, voice croaking. “Trouble? Oh no Daenerys, no _trouble_ at all.”

She had the _audacity_ to smile. “Good. You know I think it’s lovely that as much as you claim to hate them, you actually do love them.” Dany sat down in the chair across from the couch, crossing her legs and smirking. “Even if you’d never admit it.”

He was about to say something, suggesting she could go stuff it, when her wolf came running down the stairs, shouting. “Dany! You won’t believe what happened!”

“What?”

He just fell back onto the couch, placing the icepack back on his head. He was certain he had a concussion. He would need a decade in the spa before he saw Arianne again, if he was to get back to his pre-Uncle Viserys look. He barely registered the Wolf’s excitement that the twins were basically fully potty-trained and who the seven hells knew that they had learned it in so short a time?

“Funny thing though,” Wolf said, glancing over to him. He reached into his pocket and removed a wad of Bank of England notes. “They had these stuffed into their training pants.”

“Viserys were you bribing my sons? They’re two!”

“I’m going to need that money back.” He waited a second. “Preferably washed first.”

Dany shot a look at him. She glanced at Wolf, before she blinked again, a smile pulling over her teeth. She giggled. Her shoulders shook, until she was outright laughing hysterically. It was giving him more of a headache. He wanted to strangle her. “You…you pottytrained my toddlers? Boys? Boy toddlers? You trained them to…oh my gods, I need to sit down.”

“How did you do it?” Wolf wondered.

Viserys did not understand why they thought it was so hard. _Maybe I’m just a better parent than them._ He closed his eyes, sighing. “Forget it. Just…forget it. You both owe me.” He got up, unable to function. He needed sleep. Preferably after getting sufficiently wasted. His eyes felt scratchy. He stumbled slightly towards the staircase, waving his hand. “Just…leave whenever.”

“It’s my house too!”

He dragged his feet to the stairs, shaking his head. “Dany, I can’t. Your children…” He sighed, unable to finish his sentence. Lyella ran down by him, knocking him hard into the banister. He rubbed his elbow. “Hey! Watch it!”

Lyella shrieked at her parents. “You’re back! Guess what!?”

“What?” Wolf asked, while Dany looked up, eager and waiting

“I’m gonna’ be in a movie! And Uncle Vis my manager and I’m going to make twice the money the other kids make in your next movie Daddy!” She began to go into detail about the filming, how she was in a wedding scene, Margaery was so nice, and oh yeah, Daddy, she got to see Aunt Sansa who did an interview of Viserys, did you know that?

He stepped backwards up the stairs, unsure if he could make it to his part of the house before his little sister had tackled him, but…no such luck. He was about halfway there when she flung her diminutive body into him like they were kids again, pinning him onto the floor, her little fist hitting him hard in the sore shoulder. “Ow! Hey!”

“I’m not even going to get _started_ on an interview with Sansa Stark because I’m going to kill you before Jon has a chance to interrogate you on _that_ development! You _cast_ my daughter before even _telling_ me!?”

“Hey, in my defense, she’s _really_ good!”

“I’m going to kill you,” Dany whispered, but her heart wasn’t in it. He didn’t hear the real dragon in her voice, the one that came out when she truly wanted blood. She punched him again before climbing off. He got to his feet, scowling at her, pissed that she’d caused him to get dirt on his favorite Gucci jumper. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking like an angry sprite. Her brows slammed together. “We are going to discuss this, but first…”

He closed his eyes. “Dany, I can’t. I’m exhausted. The parasites are…they’ve sucked my lifeforce from me. I can’t do it. I can’t. I’m tired, my hair is horrible, my office is destroyed, the beast ruined another rug I don’t know how, the other parasite almost destroyed a filming set and conned me out of my child actor budget for the year, and…” he trailed off, not even near complete with his rant, seeing her tiny little smile, her violet eyes dancing. He squinted. “What?”

She rose on her toes, lightly kissing his cheek, her fingers patting his chest. “I love you Viserys. Uncle Viserys. Times four.”

_Times four?_

Viserys glanced at her stomach, where her hand was rested. It looked no different than normal, perhaps she could lose a few pounds, but then again he always chided her for that. Especially after the baby weight never really came off. Everyone thought she was _sooo_ sexy at the Golden Globes but he knew better. He wrinkled his nose. “Another one? Really Dany? Does the Wolf like to keep you knocked up at all times?”

She stuck her lower lip out, mimicking a pout. “Oh come on, you’re excited, I know you are.”

“No I’m not.” _Another baby! Maybe this one won’t be a complete leech_ , he thought, his stomach jumping and heart alighting at the idea of another parasite wandering around. Maybe one that looked like a true Targaryen. He pursed his lips, sniffing, gazing towards the foyer windows overlooking the rainy front garden. “I hope this time you manage to get one that isn’t a complete nuisance.”

“Hmm, I’ll try.”

He waved his fingers. “I must go. I have things to do. Take your parasites and leave whenever.”

“Hey Vis?”

He barely turned, leaning on his door towards his wing, arching a brow at her. In the light coming from the foyer and behind her, she looked like an angel, all backlit and glowing. He’d never seen Dany this happy before, these last few years with her kids and her husband and her acting life whenever she felt like it. He briefly smiled, before he caught himself and sneered. “What?”

Dany grinned, turning away from him. “Nothing. Don’t think this is the end though, I’m not signing those release papers for my daughter.” She paused. “And I’m curious to see Sansa’s interview of you after everything it seems went on.”

“Hmm, well she did seem apologetic.” He paused. “She should be allowed to be an aunt.”

“Since when have you cared about Jon’s family?”

“I _don’t_ care. Just saying.”

She ran towards him, kissing him again, and turned, running off when Lyella began calling for her, to tell her about her time on set. “Sure Vis, sure.”

Viserys scowled, storming into his office. He sank into his seat and stared at Oscar, who was still in a bio-containment unit. Basically just a glass box so no one could touch him. He sighed, lightly stroking the side of the box. “What did they do to you?” he wondered, shaking his head briefly.

He glanced at his reflection in the glass box, chuckling. _I suppose that could go both ways._ He spun in his chair, closing his eyes, intent on taking a brief respite, but unfortunately no dice.

“Vizzy!”

He jumped from the chair and ran to the door, but it was too late, the twins already appearing, shouting for him. He groaned, allowing them to pull on his hands, dragging him to some stupid thing or another.

Even when Sansa Stark sent him an email with his interview, he didn’t stop to read it. He was too busy being Uncle Vis. Although the headline of the article did catch his brief attention. He chuckled.

_**Westeros Royalty, Hollywood Powerhouse, and…Babysitting Uncle? The Many Faces of Viserys Targaryen** _

**fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :)


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